


when I think of tomorrow; there we are

by gingergenower



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9107995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: The Emperor is killed by Darth Vader and a group of rebels destroy the Death Star; the Alliance has won. It takes a few days for someone to notice a ship was stolen from one of the rebel bases.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Moana lyrics are the title again

Jyn drops her blaster into her bag. Her orders were to report to the captain at midday- she has 30 minutes left.

It’s a suicide mission and they all know it. Nothing to lose or too tired of fighting to want anything more than to die in a blaze of glory, many of the team volunteered, but Jyn didn’t. Cassian threw up when she told him where she’d be going and he tried to pull rank, demanded she be transferred to his team, even take over the mission himself, but his every move was blocked and denied.

Last night, her head rested on his rising and falling chest and their legs tangled together, he said he’d desert with her if she wanted to. They’d leave and never come back, find a small planet in a corner of the galaxy the Alliance weren’t a part of and the Empire didn’t care about and hide there, grow old together. She’d kissed his fingers, and reminded him that neither of them could abandon what they believe in. There was too much to fight for.

They fell asleep together, but she left before Cassian woke. She never told him she doesn’t mind dying if he gets to live.

As she buttons her bag up, there’s a buzz in the corridor outside her room. Two people talk, excitement contained to fast and low voices, another cutting in. Jyn listens, but she can’t hear what they’re saying. The recognisable whoosh of the blast door at the end of the corridor lets in a new voice.

“It’s true! All of it!”

“ _What_?”

“It’s over!”

Jyn sticks her head out of her room and other people are looking out of their own. Someone nearby whoops, repeats what’s been said and a woman shrieks, throwing her arms around the nearest person to her. The base on Atollon is small and she hasn’t been there long enough to know anyone, but it doesn’t matter- a stranger in a pilot’s jumpsuit sees her, and yells across to her. “We won!”

Jyn frowns. She doesn’t remember hearing of any missions leaving in the last few days. “Won what?”

“The war! The Death Star’s blown up- we’ve won the war!”

She blinks, and the pilot laughs at her blank expression. There’s a kind of thrumming in the air- someone shouts for everyone to wake up and more people emerge, some understanding and some not, but that’s when Jyn realises her hands are shaking.

She drops the bag, and tears well up in her eyes, but she’s not sure it’s real yet. She passes the crowd and heads straight for the blast door, picking up speed as she goes. It’s not real, she thinks, jogging down the corridors, sprinting across the hanger, leaping up the stairs three at a time to the control room. Not yet, it’s not real until-

-Cassian.

He’s talking to the general. Three weeks of sleep won’t erase the bags under his eyes, his blaster’s strapped to his hip and his jacket’s abandoned on a console. Jyn stops, staring at him.

The general agrees with Cassian, clapping him on the shoulder, and Cassian opens his mouth to add something but he sees Jyn and she hears his murmured ‘excuse me’.

His eyes fix on her as he moves, and she tries to ask, but her throat’s choked and hot tears pour down her cheeks she doesn’t need to, anyway. He nods.

Dropping to her knees, the grief swells in her chest and she curls into herself, sobbing. Her heart _hurts_ and she can’t breathe- but Cassian’s sat in front of her and pulls her onto his lap. She cries on his shirt while he strokes her hair, soft voice in her ear telling her what happened. The rebellion won. The Alliance destroyed the Death Star, Darth Vader and the Emperor died, and all over the galaxy Stormtroopers are surrendering.

He rocks her, coaxing her into breathing, but he’s crying too when the general tells them they need to leave. New orders are coming through from Yavin 4.

Cassian pulls Jyn to her feet and leads her out of the control room, and she follows, still blind with tears. The hanger’s empty when they walk in: tools and toolboxes are strewn across the runway, bags of supplies and someone abandoned a game of checkers next to their X-Wing.

They stop in the middle of the chaos, and Jyn wipes her eyes, smiling up at him. Even close, his eyes are so dark she can’t see where his iris begins, but the light dances in them like constellations of stars. He presses his lips to hers, hands resting on her waist, and it’s gentle but it doesn’t last long because he pulls her into a hug.

Jyn clings to him, breathing him in, but she pulls away first, and he nods his head at the ships in the hanger. 

“Pick one.”

She glances around. “I don’t…”

He cups her face in his hands, smiling. He’s not sad or bitter; just soft, content. “The war’s over. They don’t need intelligence officers and fighters anymore.”

She blinks. “There’s still so much to do.” There’s still tomorrow, there’s still planning and organising and new systems of government to put in place-

“Not for us.”

They’ve given themselves to the rebellion hundred times. Every time he killed, a little more of his soul would crumble away. Every time she fought, she felt more and more distant from Rogue One and Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze, as though they hadn’t died for something.

She glances around at the empty hanger, and hears distant yells of delight, and that’s what they all fought for. Perhaps, tomorrow…

Tomorrow. They could find something other than fighting.

She holds his wrists, keeping the palms of his hands pressed to her cheeks. “Okay.”

There’s an old Starhopper in the corner. It’s small, and sturdy, and doesn’t draw too much attention, so they grab whatever supplies they can, some spare parts, and a few spare blasters. She sits in the co-pilot seat, and he guides them into lift off. No one even radios in to ask why they’re moving the ship.

“Where are we going?” she asks, strapping herself in.

He points. “Over… there?”

“Left a little.”

“There?”

“Yes.”

They grin at each other, and he engages the throttle.

**Author's Note:**

> Debbie, I hope you and Carrie are together x


End file.
